by Beth Garrod
“Man, I’ve got ALL the feelings today. It’s the right old end of an ear, isn’t it?”
Tegan chose not to point out it was “era”. “I prefer to see things as starts, rather than ends.” This was because she was the most positive person I’d ever met. But I didn’t feel as relieved as I thought. Because I couldn’t shift the nagging feeling that for me it was the end of even more of an ear/era. The era of tackling every day with my best friends. And possibly the start of one where we didn’t get to spend all our time together. By the time we got to the pile of yearbooks, I was full-on freaking out about it. Why hadn’t I studied harder for these exams? How would I cope with going to college without Tegan and Rachel?
EURGH.
Guess I was just going to have to stop fretting and start revising better.
And try to enjoy this last bit of school with them.
I grabbed a yearbook and flicked through. Rach peered over my shoulder. When it got to my page, she cackled.
“Bells, I love that you did that.” She nudged Tegan to look. “Trust you to be next level!”
I mean, I didn’t think my face was that funny, but Tegan burst out in hysterics too. Proper laughing, not just polite laughing.
I looked at where Rach’s finger was pointing. At where my name should be. But really wasn’t.
“Ermmmmm…” My voice got higher as I panic-scanned the other pages. Why was it only me who had been rebranded?!
“Guys – this wasn’t me?!” My voice was now squeakier than Mikey’s Elsa impression. “Has Luke been hacking stuff again??”
“Bells … what file name did you give your picture?” asked Tegan slowly.
I thought back but couldn’t remember.
“You did see the instruction about it all being automated and calling your pic your own name, right?”
Ah. A cold wash of realization hit me.
“I may have missed that precise detail.”
Which is why, in my hands, and in the hands of all the teachers and students I’d ever had lessons with, was a picture of my face – and underneath, instead of saying “Bella Fisher”, in big, bold words it said “AWKWARD_BUT_ACCEPTABLE”. What a legacy to be remembered by.
“Well, congrats me on being the only one to totally mess that up.”
I hit myself over the head with the book. It actually quite hurt.
“Is now a bad time to say thanks for the photos you took of me and Tegan?” asked Rach.
My rage thawed a tad – at least I’d done one good job. I’d taken an amazing shot of Tegan mid-cartwheel, and a cool one of Rach where she’d dressed as full Hermione.
“Nah – it’s allwaaaays a good time for an ego boost.”
“OK. Well, in that case – and this might be the emotion or all the helium I inhaled –” Rach flung her arms around me and Tegan “– but can now also be the time I say how much I love you guys?”
“Luff youff too.” Tegan’s reply was muffled through Rach’s armpit. “Dream team fffor ever.”
And as the three of us stood in the school hall where we’d spent so much of our lives, I felt positively overwhelmed that the last five years were coming to an end, and so was getting to see these two every day.
OUCH.
Or did I feel positively whacked in the head? Something had hit me.
I rubbed at my scalp and looked down. Ahhh. The classic condom filled with custard. Lucky for me it hadn’t burst. I looked up to see who threw it, and wasn’t surprised in the slightest when I saw the culprit. Luke put his hands up to his mouth in fake shock.
“Sorry, didn’t realize it was you, or would have explained what one of these was – seeing as you’ll never have the chance to use one.”
I shook my head at him.
“And you still can’t give it up, even on the last day.”
He blew me a kiss. “Never, Bells.”
Sharpie in hand, he sauntered over. “Fit Rach – care to sign my shirt? For old time’s sake…”
“Me?” She looked genuinely surprised. “That’s nice…” She reached out for the pen. I was shocked, maybe a bit hurt, that she took it. “Just a signature, right?”
“Or your number. Whatever works.” Wow, Ska was a really lucky girl. Rach stepped behind Luke, and after looking through some of the other messages, and a large variety of anatomical diagrams, found space to add her name. Luke smirked, pretending to be enjoying Rach making contact with him in all kinds of wrong ways.
Tegan uttered a “Gross”, but he was lost laughing at my page in the yearbook.
“Love this pic of you, Fishy. Although not sure about the ‘acceptable’ bit. ‘Below average’ is more like it.”
And right there, in the school hall, the last two years of sly comments, mean digs and making my life a misery finally boiled over inside me. The anger at the few weeks way back when, when Luke had been my boyfriend – before I knew what he was really like. Before he’d told everyone going out with me had just been for a dare.
It was the last day of school. Last day of having to see him. If I couldn’t say what I thought now, when could I?
“Ahhh, Puke. I’m going to miss seeing you every day.” I smiled. “Which, FYI, in case you’re not 100% clear, is me joking.” I felt so angry I didn’t care that his mates were approaching. They could hear this too. “Once I’m not legally obliged to be in the same building as you, I will be BEYOND happy to never see your annoying, I’m-so-hot-yet-actually-NEWSFLASH-you-aren’t-at-all face ever again.” My brain gasped – was this actually coming out of my mouth? “Even your nose is annoying. And Ska? Who incidentally you go on about 24/7 – YAWN, WE GET IT – has my total sympathy. I can’t believe I ever thought you were a decent guy.” Time for the killer blow. “Now I can’t look at a washing machine without thinking of our first kiss. You’ve given me kitchen-based PTSD.”
Luke full-on spluttered – but before he could launch into a reply, his mates started sniggering. But not at me. At him.
Luke swivelled round. “What???” He spun back round again. “WHAT??!!??”
But he couldn’t see what I could. Written on his back in some massive letters: “FACT: MY MUM STILL CALLS ME LUKEY-POOKEY”. Rach blew me a kiss. Of course she had my back. One of his mates took a photo and showed him the evidence.
I smiled. “Callllmmm down…” I tried to stifle a giggle. “Lukey-Pookey.” If he looked cross before, now he was next level.
“HA VERY HA!” But the less funny he found it, the more hysterical it got. Seething with anger, he loomed over Rach.
“Bella’s utter loserdom has finally rubbed off on you.” He looked her up and down, his lip curled. “Such a waste – you could have been girlfriend material.”
This time it was Tegan who couldn’t hold back. “Like being your ‘girlfriend material’ is something anyone with a brain would aspire to?” She shook her head in total disgust. “Grow. The. Hell. Up.”
Yaaasss. I gave a triumphant smile.
After all these years, I finally felt like it was game, set AND match to us.
This chapter of my life could now be closed.
“Goodbye, Puke.” I waved my hand in a calm goodbye. “Hopefully for ever.”
It was time to walk off with my head held high.
But as I put my foot down, I trod right on the custard-filled condom missile. Out of control, my front leg shot forward into almost semi-splits and I skidded full pelt across the shiny floor. Could a leg snap off from stretching too much? My right foot had never been this far away from my left foot in its life.
But the permanent groin damage wasn’t the worst bit.
And nor was the wail I was making.
The worst bit was that the force of the slide crashed me straight into the leg of the table with all the yearbooks on. Which promptly fell over, landing straight on to me and the custard missile. Which then burst all over me.
As composed, confident finishes went, this was not ideal.
Luke was laughing so hard he couldn’t
speak. “Fishy Balls … is … covered in pudding gravy. Tell me somebody filmed that?”
I tried not to be momentarily impressed that he’d invented the phrase “pudding gravy”.
“And not so quick with that goodbye.” He tried to stop laughing. And failed. “’Cos with you messing up your exams, you’re on course to end up at Shire Sixth Form with me.”
He winked. I’d had NO idea he was going there. This moment couldn’t actually get any worse.
Some custard dripped from my hair on to my chin.
Oh, it could. I would cry, if I wasn’t petrified of diluting the pudding gravy even more.
Rach and Tegan, my rescue team, ran over.
“Loos. Now!” Tegan whispered. And looping their arms through mine, they dragged me to my feet and marched me away.
Fifteen minutes later, after using every bit of remaining toilet paper to scrub custard off me, I had mixed emotions.
Good news, I smelt kind of delicious.
Bad news, I looked like I’d had a fight with a yoghurt.
But with nothing else for it, it was the look I had to finish my school career on, until 3:50 p.m. finally rolled round and, bang on time, Rach’s dad was waiting for us in his car. We plonked our stuff in the boot and piled in. He sniffed the air.
“You didn’t tell me you were baking for the last day of term?!” He looked pleased.
Rach shrugged. “Nah, that’s just Bella.”
I smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. He gave me a nervous smile back, scared to ask questions and risk further details. “Sooo, how was your last day?”
Rach grinned. “Epic.”
He peered over his glasses at her shirt, which was full of words and pictures. “Legit hot AF hashtag goals.” He looked puzzled. “I know I’ve just come back from California, but is that even English?!”
Rach swivelled in the front seat and mouthed “Hellllp me”.
Tegan stepped up. “Better than mine, Mr Waters.” She extended her arm and showed him what Jay had written on her sleeve.
Mr Waters squinted and read it like he was learning a foreign language. “Most likely to … get … wified? Up?” He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Don’t tell me. Is that something to do with internet connections?”
Somehow Tegan managed not to laugh. She’d never make anyone feel stupid if she could possible avoid it.
“No – it means wifey. As in wife. As in, most likely to get married.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I’ve spent all these years studying for that to be the one thing I’m most likely to achieve.” She tutted. “As if it’s even an achievement, not just an expectation from society.”
Mr Waters’ mouth opened as if yet again he wanted to speak but had no idea what to say in case it took him to an even weirder place. “I seeeee. Yes. And Bella? How about you?”
I shrugged and looked out the window. “Me? Oh, you know… I officially got renamed Awkward but Acceptable and detonated a custard bomb all over myself. Standard.”
With a frightened “Of course!” he put the key in the ignition and started the car as quickly as he could, suddenly very interested in the buttons on his dashboard, as if this excused him from all further convo.
Rach turned back round to us. “So when do you think you’ll hear back from RebelRocks?”
We’d applied over a week ago, and hadn’t heard anything.
Tegan bit her lip. “Sure it’ll be any day now…”
I squeezed her hand. “Positive thinking – that’s what you always say?”
She nodded, and squeezed back. And as we pulled away from St Mary’s for the very last time, Rach turned up the latest Session album almost as loud as it could go, opened the sunroof and stuck her hands out. At the top of our lungs we all sang along. Well, all except her dad, who was shaking his head, but we could tell he was secretly enjoying it.
My foot vibrated. My phone was on the floor, all lit up.
MUM: So proud of my girls all grown up!!!!!
Oh no. Mum had posted about a zillion pictures of me when I was little into our family WhatsApp group. Mum had set it up and called it: “Messages WIthMy Two Daughters. Jo and Bella”.
I don’t think she realized everyone saw the description. Also, it was slightly alarming she felt the need to clarify who her daughters were.
I scrolled through the images. It was almost impressive Mum had been brave enough to give a real-life child a haircut that was so Lego-like. Lucky there wasn’t the internet in those days or social services would have probably intervened.
JO: Soooo cute. Congrats on the last day of school sis
My phone buzzed again. Jo had messaged me direct.
JO: THAT HAIR!!!!
ME: OI.
ME: You were old enough to have stopped her?! I was defenceless
JO: You were forehead-less too if those pics are anything to go by
I rolled my eyes. And clicked back into the family chat. Why oh why had Jo ever shown Mum how to set up a group? Just ’cos she was safe at uni. It was the bane of my life.
ME: Thanks, Mum. Although remember the rule.
BABY PICS ARE NOT FOR FACEBOOK, OK??
MUM: Ofcourse sweetpea!!
Phew.
MUM: I’ll definitely remember for next time.
IVE already posted these. Everyone lovesthem!
YOugot a thumbs up from Cousin MaTT.
JO:
A direct message popped up from my sister.
JO: Fit Cousin Matt will never un-see those!!!
Ahahahhhahhahah
I sent her a potato emoji back. When we were annoyed we resorted to vegetables. But Mum hadn’t finished.
MUM: Now all U habe to do is try your best with your exams!!! I believer inyou both!! Im a Belieber!!!
She still had no idea what that meant and used it liberally in all the wrong places.
ME: Thanks, Mum.
JO: What do you mean?
See what she did there.
ME: Think she’s saying to love yourself. Have real Purpose.
The Bieber references went over Mum’s head.
MUM: Yes! But pressure isn’t food [Think she meant “good”.] for the soul. So RElax andjust do your best Bellington Boot zzzzz
JO: We’re all here for you. As Mum says, just do your best!!! That’s what counts xxxx
Jo instantly followed up in our one-on-one messages.
JO: And just try not to dwell on the fact I got 10 A*
I clicked my screen off. It lit up again instantly.
JO: Sorry.
At least she did have some remorse.
JO: It was eleven with the one I took a year early.
This time I shoved my phone away where I couldn’t see it. Which is sometimes what I wished I could do with my big sister.
“Ooh, Bella.” Rach’s dad turned the music down. “Looks like you’ve got a male visitor?”
He said it in his best oo-er voice. I craned my neck and got a glimpse of one of my favourite sights.
Post-school Adam. Shirt all untucked. Hair all messy. Bag slung over his shoulder. Him leaning against my wall. If my eyes could talk they’d say: “Hello, fittieeeeeee.” So probably best they couldn’t.
I waved through the car window. When he realized it was me his face lit up.
DOES LIFE GET ANY BETTER?
I jumped out of the car and blew kisses to the others as they drove on to Tegan’s house.
And then it was quiet.
Just me and Adam.
“So, er, this is a surprise?”
I’d only seen him twice since he’d brought Mumbles to Rachel’s.
He smiled. And slid his arm around my waist. Waaaaaah.
“A good one, I hope?”
It was all I could do to nod. I was peak lame.
Adam kissed me gently on the lips. Not long enough to risk Mum banging on the window again (not to tell us to stop but to wave encouragement. Way more disturbing) but long enough to make me feel like the rest of the road had b
lurred.
“You smell nice…” He put his nose into my neck and breathed in. Errrr, why did someone sniffing you feel so nice?! Must Google if this is normal. “What is it?”
“Custard.”
“I see.”
“Think it ended up in my hair. Some definitely went up my nose.”
“Right.”
Silence.
“Aaaaanyway.” His grin returned. “I can’t stay long – I’ve got band practice, but…” He lifted his fists up and did a tiny on-the-spot dance. “I’ve got news.”
“Oooohhhh!” What could it be? He didn’t have an exam today, and didn’t finish at his school for another week, so it couldn’t be that. And he already had his place at the sixth-form college it fed into, so it wasn’t that either. I’d seen him so little recently, it really could be anything.
“In fact no.” He stopped jiggling and put his hands on my waist. “Question… Did you hear back about the RebelRocks job?”
I shook my head but couldn’t help smile at how he made it sound like I’d applied to be the CEO, not rubbish picker-upper.
“Oh.” He looked deflated – he knew how much I wanted to go. “That sucks.”
“Oi. Enough about me.” Without thinking I poked him in the stomach. If felt hard in a way that made me want to turn to the nearest thing (in that case a shrub) and say, “Phwoar.” I focused very hard on not doing that. “NEWS, PLEASE?!”
But his excitement had switched into something less comfortable.
“I dunno…”
“You came all this way – spit it out!” I threw in another opportunistic prod, purely for the benefit of my finger.
“You sure?” I nodded. “We, er…” He shuffled on the spot. “We … won a slot!”
BLINK. WHAT? “A slot?!”
“At RebelRocks. The Wet Donald Project. We won the new band competition.”
“OH MY ACTUAL DAYS!!!!” I yelled so loudly five separate pigeons flew up in panic. “That. Is. A. May. Zing!!!!”
